A Tale Of Two Nerds
by H80NP
Summary: [NO STANCHEZ] Stanford sends a postcard to his twin, asking him to come to him. When he comes, they start a fatal argument and begin a fight. Meanwhile, Rick is relaxing on the roof of his house when he meets a... stranger.
1. The Thing That Should Not Be

**Author's Notes: Hey!**

 **So, I found this notebook somewhere in my room – which I've been looking for a long time – and I had written a fanfic inside it, which is the story you are going to read below. I actually wrote this somewhat for fun when the episode ATOTS aired, and I crossed it over with Rick and Morty, although I left it at some point. So, if its plot belongs to almost a year ago, I'm sorry, but I thought it's worth writing. (Maybe I'm wrong)**

 **I actually just re-wrote this in order to make it make sense. I had some HUGE grammatical errors in it :|**

 **So, I hope you enjoy, and let me note that: No Stanchez – or any other ships – here!**

 **.**

 **Chapter One: The Thing That Should Not Be**

November 13th, 1982:

Stanley Pines woke up, still feeling exhausted. He had had a serious lack of sleep recently. Paranoia was keeping him awake as much as sleeping for four hours straight had not happened in a month, and that day was no exception.

The middle-aged man glanced at his cheap, ready-to-be-dumped watch, seeing the time 9:32 A.M. It was disappointing to him, because the last time he had looked at his watch was 6:18, and he knew he must have been awake for the next hour. _Great_.

He heaved a sigh and stood up in his tiny so-called "home". He basically lived in a small room littered by all of the junk he had been selling to people, with a pale wallpaper – which was near falling off the wall – and a half-closed window.

Scamming people was all he had done in the last ten years, as much as he couldn't imagine his life otherwise anymore – although he knew he would embrace a huge change in his life that could let him do something other than going from one state to the other after being banned because of the scams he had pulled, but his mind wouldn't go anywhere near imagining that way of life. He knew he had to get used to this way of life.

As he started thinking about his life, his mind raced to more than ten years ago, when he searched the cave back at New Jersey, alongside with his six-fingered, nerdy brother. The old times, when they used to _get along_ …

He remembered of the Stan O War, how they almost rebuilt it as if it was going to be actually used, how he dreamed of it back then, and finally, how his dreams were ripped apart…

Back at the room, Stanley shook his head to put the thoughts at the back of his mind. He didn't want himself crying. Not this time. He had some important things to do today.

He suddenly heard a knock on the door. He knew fully well who it was, and started to get stressed out.

"Just gimme a few more days Rico!" he shouted as he reached for something at the back of his bed. The baseball bat. "I'll pay your goods back, I SWEAR!"

He saw a letter _… no…_ a postcard fall on the floor of the room. He felt a breeze of relief in himself and looked through the door just to be sure the postcard wasn't from Rico himself. After seeing an old postman at the other side of the door, he was completely sure there was no threat.

He bent over to pick up the postcard. At one side, he saw a picture of a forest-like nature with a fall on the right side. But at the back, there were a few words, which could change his life forever.

"PLEASE COME! - FORD"

* * *

He had almost arrived…

He had packed up as quickly as possible, just after he saw the postcard, and had gotten into his car and buckled up to head into what was waiting for him somewhere way too far away in the north.

He knew it was going to be awkward seeing his twin brother after near ten years of being apart. What could Stanford have done all along? What happened to his college? How were Ma and Pa? Why had he moved to Oregon? What had he been through? Would he even welcome him? He had a lot of thoughts going on in his head while driving and crossing state lines. But he had to push the thoughts away at some point because it was snowing heavily.

His car's heater had been refusing to for a few hours and Stanley was freezing in his car. He had to speak to himself to keep himself warm. And now it was snowing. He couldn't see much in front of him, barely able to read the signs. The last sign he had seen was one titled "Gopher Road" which apparently was the road his brother lived in, so he was less than an hour away from his destination.

And that was when he saw a building through the snow. He pushed his right foot harder on the accelerator, getting to the house shortly.

The house looked more of an abandoned shack than a building, looking completely dead. He knew his brother wouldn't pick such wreckage to live in, but he couldn't just pass by Stanford's house and not go in because it didn't seem like it was his.

Just thinking about that possibility made him feel bad about himself.

He unbuckled and got out of his car, leaving the engine running. He didn't want to spend – waste – an hour on turning the engine on, if it wasn't Stanford's house. He had to check the number of the house and see if it was 618.

After spending a few minutes on finding the number, he found the number 412 and started cursing, disappointed. He soon found his car and got in, forgetting to buckle his seatbelt. But as he attempted to accelerate, he found out that the engine, for whatever reason, wasn't working.

He accelerated again, only to find out that he was facing a serious problem: he had run out of fuel.

"Crap!" muttered Stanley as he got out of his car, thinking of what to do. His head was filling with negative thoughts, the hope being drained away, when his eyes caught something far away.

 _Another building._

* * *

Inside the _other building_ , there was a beardy, worried scientist standing in front of a mirror, looking himself in the eye. Stanford had been doing so ever since he had sent a postcard to Stanley, asking for help. He knew fully well that Bill could easily possess him when Stanley came and ruin all he had planned to tell Stanley. He needed Stanley to do him a big favor, which he wasn't sure how he would respond to, but he needed to tell him.

He looked at himself. He was entirely a mess. His hair had become longer than ever, and hadn't been brushed in a whole month. His tie was loose, his shirt's top buttons were unbuttoned, which he fixed as soon as he noticed, and he could only imagine how stinky he was. His beard was relatively long, not shaved for weeks – not that he even shaved, his lighter was out of gas. All in all he looked as if he had been hit by a bus.

But that wasn't what he cared about. He was looking at his eyes to see if they turned yellow, and fight it. He could prevent it this way, always being conscious of it. He was worried about Stanley. He knew that Bill could easily possess him on his way here, and he knew whatever happened if he let Bill into this, it wouldn't be pleasant. The Shapeshifter could simply tranform to him as well, if it had found a way out of the bunker.

He picked up a flashlight from a table near him, keeping his eyes on his own reflection. After stuffing it at his pocket, he looked around foe some sort of weapon he could use if it was the Shapeshifter, so he could be rid of him for good.

He found the crossbow, and raced to pick it up, and then go back to the mirror. His paranoia had been getting to him these last few days.

 _Knock knock!_

* * *

"There is NOTHING about this I understand!" Stanley said, staring at the portal. Stanford had made sure he was himself, so he was so much relieved, making his voice sound less stressed. "It is a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension." Stanford began explaining, as Stanley kept his gaze at the portal. He decided to continue, "I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be hardest for a terrible destruction.

"That is why I shut it down and hid my journals which explain how to operate it."

He pulled out his first journal from his pocket and walked up to his messy brother, who now was looking at him, not the portal. The old scientist placed it at his twin's hands.

"There's only one journal left, and you are the only one I trust to take it." Stanford hesitated for a second. He didn't know how Stanley would respond to his request, but it was something he needed to tell him, so he decided to go for it. The worst that could happen was a small fight, right?

Apparently not.

* * *

Stanley punched his apologizing brother hard and sent him walking backwards in pain. In his backwards going, he hit a lever and made it be pulled. Neither Stanley nor Stanford noticed. They had _less important_ things to think about. Now Stanley was walking to his brother, holding his painful shoulder – which had just burnt – his anger rising.

"Some brother you turned out to be, you care more about your dumb mysteries than your family?" Stanford was now on his feet. Both had no idea that the portal was turned on, ready to suck anything that crossed the line on the ground to itself, all it needed was for Stanley to make the final move. "Well, then you can have –"

He stopped when he saw Stanford airborne. His brother was now floating to the portal, struggling aimlessly in panic and fear. "Whoa, Whoa, What's going on? HEY STANFORD!" Stanley said, his hate turning into confusion. He didn't expect this.

"Stanley, Stanley help me!" the old scientist shouted, getting closer to the gateway. A gateway to HELL.

"Oh no, _WHAT DO I DO_?"

"Stanley, STANLEY DO SOMETHING!

" _STANLEY!_ "

An explosion.

Silence.

All that could be heard was a deadly, deafening silence, a few feet away from an unconscious, regretful man, whose brother had gone and left only a pair of glasses from himself.

* * *

Infinite and a thousand miles away was an old, blue-haired man relaxing on the roof of his house, a beer bottle in his hand and seven other ones beside him – he was not interested in having to go back inside the house and taking a new bottle every five minutes, so he had taken only a small part of his drinks with him on the roof.

This time of the day was the only few hours which in he could actually be on his own, because although he loved her daughter, she could sometimes be a pain in the neck. He sometimes needed to get drunk, but reminded himself that he was the only one taking care of Beth since he had divorced his wife and he was the caretaker.

He drank a bit more of his beer and started overthinking. Overthinking about all that had happened to him in the last two years. He began to take another sip from his bottle, but realized it's empty. After bring hung upside down, the bottle was thrown in the air, aimed at the trash can at the Sanchez' yard.

 _Crack!_

Hopefully the neighbors weren't many, and were used to bottles breaking after the midnight, because Rick mostly failed at his throws and the unlucky bottles would break – not that Rick would give a damn.

There was complete silence in the suburb area of the city, the only noise being Rick's burps which echoed through the houses and gardens.

Suddenly, Rick heard a sound. A sound similar to the sound of a portal opening, but a bit noisier.

It surely wasn't caused by an ordinary portal gun…

* * *

For a forever-taking moment, Stanford's vision was white. Not seeing anything was annoying to him. Then, he finally noticed a color other than white, and in a second, his vision was almost back to normal.

Except, everything was blurry.

He thought that this would be fixed within another second, but he waited and nothing happened. All he could see was a haze of different colors with a black background which, if he was still at earth, he would tell was the sky, but now… he couldn't be sure of anything.

He decided he would leave the problem with his vision for later, so he analyzed the situation he was in. But he suddenly heard someone – something – speak.

"Not now Ruben, it's thr*Buuuuuuaouuurp*three O' clock."

Stanford almost panicked, but then, realized that the person sounded nothing like a demon – especially Bill. The voice was not echoing, he sensed no evilness in it, and he also heard a burp, which demons weren't capable of creating the sound of.

"Hey, you're not Ruben…" the voice said again, sounding puzzled.

Stanford started to say that he is not Robin – or whoever he mistook him for – and is actually Stanford Pines from Earth, but was stopped by a hand – foot? He couldn't be sure – on his stomach, holding him down. "Who the FUCK are you? TELL ME! Or…" the figure almost yelled, as if it was keeping his voice quiet not to wake someone, which seemed weird to Stanford.

Stanford felt something being pushed to his temple. Something like a… _oh boy_.

"Or I'll shoot!"

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I know, I know, More Gravity Falls and less Rick and Morty in this chapter, but I can promise more Rick and Morty in the next chapters! Also, I know this chapter was too descriptive of the characters' thoughts, because there aren't as much dialogs, but the next chapters are not going to be as long-winded.**

 **I would be really glad if you left any reviews, I want to hear your thoughts on this story! Also, if you found any fails, errors, misspelling, etc. tell me so I can fix it!**

 **-H80NP**


	2. Six-Ford

**Author's Notes: Here's the second chapter!**

 **Sorry for the long absence, life got in the way – and yes, life includes school. But I won't go through any more absences for a while. Summer vacation began later for me, so I'm going to use the rest as greatly as possible, which means more chapters are to be written soon.**

 **I would like to thank all of you for your favorites/follows/Especially reviews. I'm glad you are interested in this fanfic, hoping you'll stay tuned. :)**

 **Anyways, enjoy!**

 **Chapter Two: Six-Ford**

Inside the house was fire and heat, relieving the freezing weather outside – it had turned surprisingly cold just after the portal had opened. A few feet away from the fire, there were two men, one being a glass-less Stanford Pines sitting near the fire, being relieved by its warmth, and the other one being a blue-haired scientist, handing his new friend a pair of glasses. Next to him were a few bottles of beer and whiskey, which were all going to be drunk within the next thirty minutes – rick couldn't let Stanford's presence force him not to drink as much as he did every night.

Stanford took the glasses in his blurry vision and put them on. The glasses turned the brunette scientist's vision surprisingly better. Surprised, Stanford looked at the ceiling. He was in the living room of a neat looking house and was sitting on a regular, wooden chair. Beside him, he saw many bottles, and a foot away was – apparently – the owner of the voice who had helped him come downstairs after knowing he was no threat.

Stanford saw a middle-aged man with unnaturally blue hair – which he thought was dyed – and a matching shirt. The man had put on a lab coat just to make it obvious that he was a scientist. He was ungracefully tall and thin, his spit dripping from his bottom lip, which made him look light years away from being sober. Judging by the huge amount of bottles Stanford saw to his left, the man was definitely an alcoholic.

Said man sat down in the chair beside the confused scientist and looked at him goofily and started talking. "So, tell me more about yourself, Six-Uuuurp-Ford, All I know is your fucking name" The man said in a gruff voice, not ashamed to use any curse words – although Stanford already knew, it seemed obnoxious to him every time he used a mild language. But he had to admit that he was glad that Rick had not chosen to call him Sixer like Stanley and Bill did.

"Okay, but I don't even know _your_ name." Stanford replied.

"Rick –Buuurp- Sanchez." The man said.

"Okay, Rick. Uh... I was always the kind of a person who would be bullied in school so often, and I imagine you can guess why." Stanford began explaining, pausing to look at his enormous hands. But despite how he expected, Rick responded to his very first sentence. "Yeah, I was the same way."

"Really?" Stanford said in a surprised tone. He thought Rick was the kind of a person to bully other kids, not to be bullied. "I don't see how." Stanford added, now confused.

"You really can't? –Burp- Seriously?" Rick almost yelled, keeping his voice quiet as if not to wake someone up. He pointed at his hair.

"Oh, right. I thought you had dyed it." Stanford explained, now understanding.

"Nah. I was this lanky and nerdy freak at school, other kids always called me "Blue-ass". It was like, I started a day energetically, knowing it was gonna be my lu-Burp-cky day, but when I enter the fucking class, everyone's like "Hey, look! It's Blue Ass!" and I would get fucking pissed for the entire day. That's why I hate school. I don't think it's a place for smart people, just a bunch of fucking dumbasses looking for whose sandwich to eat today. I've always told Beth: Don't let schooling fuck with your…"

"Beth? Who is Beth?" Stanford asked confusedly.

"Oh, she's just my daughter. She comes here every month and visits me." Rick explained.

"So, you're actually married? I never thought you were married. You don't look like you are."

"I'm actually divorced. My wife left me after she realized I had a fucking girlfriend in another dimension. She barely lets Beth see me, but still…" and he sighed sadly.

"I know, Rick. It's tough to have your wife leave you…" Stanford attempted to make Rick feel better, but rick came back madly. "Waddya mean tough?! I'd love to find her corpse rotting in some fucking junkyard, the tough part is not having Beth here!" He yelled, again keeping his voice down the same way. Then, he took a deep breath and calmed himself, picked up a bottle and opened it, drank it to the last bit and continued. "Well, at least not always." He stopped and took a look at Stanford, who was looking at the empty bottle. "Hey, enjoy yourself, nerd." Rick said, smirking. Stanford, though, never enjoyed being called a nerd – especially when it came to other nerds.

"Says the nerd wearing the lab coat." Stanford came back proudly. It was the first time in his life that he had come back to an insult well. Rick laughed.

"C'mon, I just said enjoy yourself. Besides, you gotta admit that you're a fucking –Buuurp- nerd, right?" Rick responded.

"You have a point." Stanford admitted. "And thanks, I'm no drinker." He added.

"Pfft. Yeah right, nerds don't drink. Totally forgot." Rick came back sarcastically. Stanford laughed this time, knowing that the Blue-Ass wouldn't take this off anytime soon.

"Well, you do, so there's a paradox."

"My life is full of paradoxes, nerd." Rick responded. "Hey, what if I called you Six-Nerd? That would be cool, wouldn't it?" He added.

"Shut up, Rick." Stanford said as he failed at holding in his laugh. He burst out laughing loudly, which seemed to worry Rick.

"Shush! Be quiet, Ford! My daughter's sleeping!" He yelled in the same quiet tone while tapping his new friend's shoulder. Stanford stopped laughing.

"Wait, you said she barely visits you." Stanford said.

"Yeah, but she does. Right now, she's sleeping there." Rick said, pointing at a room across them with a closed door. "Keep it down next time, okay?" Rick said.

"It's alright, nerd." Stanford brought up the argument all over again and laughed quietly. Rick laughed as well.

Stanford was quickly reminded of the joke Stanley always said, but no one laughed at. He knew fully well that it was because no one got the punch line, which he thought Rick would get.

"Speaking of ex-wives and stuff, I was remembered of a joke my brother always said, but no one laughed at." Stanford said, getting the blue-haired man's attention. "Okay, what was it?" Rick asked, still smiling.

"It totally suits your case. Here it goes: My ex-wife still misses me…" And he waited for a second. "BUT HER AIM'S GETTING BETTER!" he added while doing the gesture Stanley always did. As he had hoped, Rick began laughing crazily, still keeping his voice down. "Oh, boy, that's absolutely my life story." Rick said unclearly as he burst out laughing again. Stanford was laughing as well, and almost fell down from the chair he was sitting on, but kept control of himself.

After a few minutes of laughing, the two scientists calmed themselves down and stopped laughing. Rick took a drink and Stanford sat down in his chair again. The blue haired scientist decided to go back to Stanford's biography.

"So, Ford, tell me more about yourself. You talked about bullying and shit."

"Yes, yes. I was the kid to get bullied, but my brother was there for me to get the bullies off my back – I actually have a twin brother, whose name is Stanley. We would always…"

* * *

"So, I moved to this town in Oregon called Gravity Falls." Stanford said, beginning to tell the story of the most important seven years of his life.

"So, you would just go out and see what you could find?" Rick guessed.

"Yes. I would go to the forest nearby and look for creatures that lived in there." Stanford explained. "The funny part was that no one in the town had ever thought to look for the strange phenomena sitting just a few yards away, but they would spread rumors about strange things in the forest, in which I was never interested." Stanford added disrespectfully.

"Oh boy. People will always be the stupid pile of crap they are. Were any of those rumors true?" Rick asked.

"None of which I actually worked on. There was a local myth called the hide-behind, which would hide every time you tried to turn back and look at it. Among all the stupid ideas, this seemed the most stupid one, but it seemed original – unlike things like the "monster-under-the-9-year-old's-bed". So I set to work on it. Absolutely nothing found."

"So, what _did_ you find?" Rick asked.

"I actually found a lot of creatures in the forests, of any kind you would guess. Vampire bats, gnomes – actual gnomes, Unicorns, a Shapeshifter, etcetera." He explained, but was determined to hide the story of Bill. He didn't want anybody else involved in this story.

"It seems like you _did_ find something." Rick said. Stanford was shocked at the way Rick spoke. "What do you mean _something_? I found lots of things in there. I spent six years studying them! And you're saying I found _something_?" Stanford yelled, but this time remembered to keep his voice down. "I built a portal, Rick! A freaking portal!"

"A portable one?" Rick asked calmly, making his six fingered friend confused.

"No, I had an entire basement dedicated to it." Stanford said, as he puzzled things together. "Don't tell me that you…"

"I have." Rick cut him off and pulled out a tiny gun-like device from his lab coat's pocket. Stanford looked at it in awe.

"Is… is this a portal?" He asked, and Rick chuckled. "It's a portal gun – as I named it. It's as tiny as my pockets. I'm not opening a portal right now because it might wake Beth up. Y'know, Effects and noises it makes. Also, I should do things like this at my lab." The blue-haired scientist explained.

"How do you build something like this? I mean, it's really small, even smaller than a telephone!" Stanford exclaimed.

"I first built an actual portal, a huge one, most likely just like the one you built. My pal, Ruben helped me out with the issues and stayed on the controllers once I crossed the gateway. The next place I found myself at was in some sorta mine for an unknown chemical. I took some of it and later used it to build smaller portals. I actually built a lamp with those." He explained and pointed at a small lamp on top of the portal gun, which Stanford hadn't noticed. "See, your achievements are nothing compared to mine. I've made inter-dimensional friends and enemies, formed a secret place for alternate versions of myself, broken the laws – "

"Wait. Alternate versions of yourself?" Stanford asked.

"Yeah. There is such a thing. It'll take me long to explain ya."

"Uh, Okay." Stanford said unwillingly.

"But we need to go to my lab, so I can explain more stuff to ya. Also, I might do something to help you go back to your own dimension." Rick said.

"Why would I want to go back to my own dimension? I can find a job here and live on my own, I don't think I need to go back to my own dimension." Stanford said.

"Alright, then. But if you ever changed your mind about going back there, I'd help you out." Rick explained calmly. "But, as I said before, I'm also into this inter-dimensional stuff, so if you stay, I could teach you how to go to different dimensions and how to know what a dimension is like before you actually go, and so on." Rick added and got up from his chair to lead his six fingered friend to his lab.

* * *

Rick's lab was more equipped than Stanford had expected. He had seen a lot of labs, including labs as good as the West Coast Tech lab, but Rick's lab was something beyond anything he could have imagined.

There were all sorts of devices and tools, mostly unknown to him. He knew they weren't made from things on earth, because they mostly had an unnatural shine to them, which convinced Stanford that they were made from an element from another dimension. He was unfamiliar with the tools surrounding him, but he thought Rick had a reason to take him here. His blue haired friend currently appeared to be searching for something in his drawers. After a few seconds, he pulled out a few sheets of paper and handed them to Stanford. "Read this."

Stanford took a look at the paper. It was filled with complicated calculations, all based on possibilities. He didn't know if he needed to read all of the calculations. "What is this?"

"No need to read all of it, go to the last part."

Stanford looked through the papers and found the last part and read. The calculations ended this way:

x=∞

"What's x here?" Stanford asked.

"It's the amount of dimensions that exist. I calculated them awhile ago. Y'know, no one's sure how many dimensions actually exist, so I proved it." Rick said.

"Okay, so what does this mean?"

"Means there's infinite realities, which means infinite possibilities. You *Burp* you can go to a reality where there's gigantic telepathic spiders living in huge amounts alongside humans, or a reality of earth where instead of humans, there's pizzas living. Any stupid kinda thing is possible.

"By that, you could find dimensions where the laws of physics could be bent easily. If you find out how, you could do the same thing in any dimension, which is how I easily built a portal in a small size. I found the chemical for it.

"So, there's a possibility that you can make time travelling happen as well, which is what I'll be working on next."

Stanford thought about the last few words, 'I'll be working on next', which meant he was currently working on something else.

"You'll need to find a job if you wanna live in this reality, and get your own home in a few months. In that case, I could help you with work, but you'll have to help me with *Burp* with my inter-dimensional work as *Burp* well." Rick said.

"Inter-dimensional work?" Stanford asked and Rick nodded and spoke. "But, you need to work as well, which is what I could help you with."

"I'd appreciate that, Rick." Stanford said thankfully. Then cleared his throat and said, "Where should we go next?"

Rick smirked and led the way.

* * *

 **Auth** **or's notes: Yup. Rick's a lot more of a warm kind of a person here, and he would be the same in the series if he met someone like Stanford.**

 **Next chapter should be up way sooner than this chapter took to be done, so stay tuned and review! I want to hear your thoughts!**

 **-H80NP**


	3. The End Of A Time, A Time To Begin

**Chapter Three: The End of A Time, A Time To Begin**

 **Author's Notes: Here we go, the third chapter is here! And it did take longer than I had thought, but it's here anyway! I hope you enjoy!**

 **And let me note: This chapter got longer than I expected, so I split it in two halves, but sadly, the first half is pretty short. (You could call it a filler) I'll post the next chapter sooner in return – I've written most of the next part, so it's going to take just two or three days.**

 **Let's start with some Stanley, shall we?**

 **.**

"Stanford?"

Stanley called as he regained his consciousness. He only recalled himself coming to Stanford's place somewhere in Oregon at first, so he looked around a bit to see where his brother was, and ask him why he had been passed out, what had happened and…

 _Wait._

Stanley _did_ know what had happened.

The long haired man panicked as more memory clicked back into space. _This can't be… real... must have been a nightmare while I was unconscious…_

But he spotted a pair of glasses a few feet away from him, and every last bit of hope in him died instantly.

"Stanford, come back! _I_ _didn't mean it_!" Stanley cried at the portal, where his brother had disappeared, as he ran to it and hit it with his fists, with little to no hope that his six-fingered, nerdy brother would hear his desperate cries and punches. He felt terror and fear, but most of all, guilt and shame. He couldn't lose his brother again after ten years.

He ran to the lever he remembered his brother falling on. He pulled it with all force he had in himself, only to get no result. He tried, this time harder, and was disappointed again.

"Stanford!" he yelled at the empty hole in the portal and fell down on the ground, curled into a ball and started _crying_ for the first time in more than eight years. He mumbled words of sorrow, regret and shame under his breath while covering his face and sobbing. How could he have done that again to his brother? How could he have gotten angry at his one and only twin whose future he had ruined himself, even if it was by an accident?

He cried until he felt like he was in his own control. He then opened the journal and looked at the different pages, hoping he could find a solution to get his brother back. He was sure Stanford had considered this detail and written about it, he just needed to look closely. He soon reached the last page and saw the big words: "Continued in journal #2"

Disappointed, he walked to where the controls were. He thought that the journals had to be in there, maybe in a bookcase he had not noticed or somewhere back in the control room.

He found the case beside the controls and opened it. In there he saw a few books, which consisted of books such as 'Code Breaking', 'The Basics of Quantum Physics', 'Theoretical Physics Made Stupid' – which did not make Stanley laugh - , 'History of Anomalous Disasters'…

 _But not the journal._

Stanley almost panicked at the realization. He felt hopeless, he was basically unable to save his brother without the journals. How was he going to save his brother?

The sense of panic only lasted a few seconds, when he managed to calm himself down. He remembered Stanford saying things about the journal, so he thought his words might hold the key to finding the rest of the journals, and getting him back to his own home. So he tried to remember his brother's words.

" _I've something to show you…"_

"… _It's a trans-universal gateway…"_

"… _I created it to unlock the mysteries of…"_

"… _it could just as easily be…"_

"… _a terrible destruction…"_

"… _I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it."_

"… _and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it."_

"… _and hid my journals…"_

"… _hid my journals…"_

"… _hid…"_

"… _HID…"_

The last word remained echoing through his mind, as if words being shouted in a small, empty room, and echoing for minutes. He kept repeating the word in his head, as well as saying it aloud before he knew it. "Hid, hid, hid, hid…" he kept whispering the word, and over a few minutes, he started to say the word louder and louder, clearer and clearer, _until he stopped_.

It took Stanley surprisingly long to understand the point of the words. His twin brother had hidden his other journals somewhere, which meant he had to spend a noticeable amount of time on finding them. He would have been filling with frustration again, had he not wondered where was likely for the journals to be hidden at. The answer was obvious

Stanley was suddenly filled with some hope. That was it! He knew where to look for the journals at.

Stanford had said he had hidden the journals, but for some reason, he wanted Stanley to take the first journal and bury it somewhere far away from this town. The reason was pretty obvious to him now.

Stanley's twin brother couldn't have risked leaving his home – which included all his belongings _and_ his lab – for a long time to bury the journals far away from his own home. He knew his twin well. He was one hell of a paranoid maniac and Stanley knew that there was no way he would accept such risk, so he must have buried the journals somewhere… near the house.

"That's It! I'll search the woods nearby." Stanley said and left the lab, while remembering to pick up a shovel. He went upstairs and shoved the huge bookcase –which had the job of hiding the entrance to the underground lab- aside and entered the main room of the house.

In an instant, Stanley was filled with memories, realization and _guilt_. Mere hours ago, _Stanford_ led him here. _Stanford_ flashed a flashlight in each one of his eyes. _Stanford_ sent him a postcard. _Stanford_ asked him to come here. _Stanford_ asked him for a favor. _Stanford_ had remembered him, yet _he_ hadn't. He had sent him to another universe instead.

Stanley looked down, clenching his fists as his face went red from a guilty anger. Although he was saddened again by what he had done, he was now determined, determined to hold back no efforts to bring his six fingered, freaky, nerdy brother, the one and only Stanford Filbrick Pines.

"I'm gonna getcha back, Sixer!" Stanley murmured under his breath and looked up with determination in his eyes. "No matter how long it takes!" and he smiled as he rushed outside his brother's shack of a house.

.

 **Author's Notes: Well, there you have it! Some things from Stanley's point of view as well!**

 **Thanks a lot for reading this chapter and even more if you'll review! I will have more stuff on Stanley's side later, but next chapter is about Rick and Ford, so Stanley has to wait! :)**

 **Tell me your reviews, ideas, whatever's on your mind! I'd love to hear them!**

 **-H80NP**


	4. The Little Workshop of Horrors

**Chapter Four: The Little Workshop Of Horrors**

 **Author's Notes: Aaaaand the fourth chapter is here for you! I did promise to give it to you guys soon enough, and I did! Go on and enjoy!**

* * *

"There it –uurrp- is, Sixford, my workshop. I fix electronic items here."

Rick opened a door from his lab, with Stanford following closely behind. The door led to another room, which was simpler and more organized than the lab they had just been at. Stanford could see all sorts of electronic circuits, batteries, lamps and transistors, all sorted in different cases on the wall. He smiled at the sight and took a closer look at the parts.

"Huh, Three-ported transistors, I didn't have enough time to get familiar with these." Stanford mumbled and walked past the parts to take a look at the other things inside the workshop.

He saw other cases filled with other things, all beautifully sorted up, organized and clean. He saw some screws in five cases, each case having a particular size of screws in it only. Awed, he walked past them and saw the other tools, all sorted by size, shape and kind. That was _nothing_ like what he had expected from an alcoholic.

The messy scientist heard a popping sound from a corner and turned to see the source. He saw Rick, who had just opened another bottle of his wine, but what was beside the blue haired scientist awed Stanford even more.

Even the bottles were in order.

The cases were labeled by a percentage number, which was probably the percentage of alcohol in the drinks. Luckily the bottle Rick had picked up looked like one of those in the section "5 – 10%", so Rick would stay pretty much sober for awhile.

He decided not to think about such things and went on to discover more about this work shop.

He saw a laundry machine in a corner, which looked all clean – set aside the few pieces of duct tape on the back. The machine was labeled "Mrs. Hammett. Cost: 549$".

"What was wrong with this?" Stanford asked Rick. The blue-haired scientist turned around and faced the laundry machine.

"Oh, this?" He said as Stanford nodded. "One of the main circuits was broken, so I changed the wirings." He said as he went to the front of the workshop, which was separated from the back by a big desk. "The owner of that laundry is gonna come for it today, she said she'd be here in around six O' clock in the morning, which is right about now." Rick explained and Stanford looked at the clock on one of the walls, which showed 5:53. "Next thing we'll be fixing is the headphones over there. The left ear isn't working."

"So, you fix electronic items as your apparent job, but you actually do projects on the…" Stanford said, but was stopped when Rick raised a hand.

"Don't talk about it this loud, Sixford. People might hear ya, and you know what happens if they do." He said. "But yeah. You're right. I need your help later today with one of my projects, but before that, I'll show you how things work here, because you'll be working here." Rick said and faced the glassless front window, which was beside the front door. He walked to said window and awaited the owner of the laundry machine.

Stanford was deep in his own thought about how this work could go. Would he do good on this job? How would Rick react if he ruined one of the works? Would he even be any help at all? He wasn't very confident in himself, when he heard Rick speaking.

"Good morni-uuuuuaourp-ing." He heard Rick's voice, with the unnaturally long burp following.

"Good morning, Mr. Sanchez." A woman said. "So, I hope you _have_ fixed my laundry machine, because I need it today, There's so much cloth to wash."

"Don't worry, Miss Hammett…"

"Mrs." She corrected Rick, pretty offended.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I have fixed your old machine…"

"Old machine?" The middle-aged woman exclaimed, making her disapproval obvious. "I bought it just fifteen years ago, and it's the first time…"

"I just said old because I have lots of newer items to fix. Plus, your laundry machine is more of a piece of… garbage than an actually working machine. I'd say it's a waste of electricity keeping that thing in your house. I could barely find the right circuits to make it work again." Rick came back, sounding pretty angry, which made Stanford afraid. Would he do the same to him if he made a mistake.

But other than that, the argument reminded Stanford of something else, something more painful.

"Hey! You can't tell me what to do with my belongings! _I'm_ responsible for them, not you! You should just do your job and fix what people _give_ you to fix!" Now Stanford could see the lady better. She was a blond, thin lady with formal clothing – she was most likely going to her work – and a young appearance. Stanford could guess she was in her middle twenties.

"I had so much trouble fixing your " E" and I can simply call it an old machine, _because_ it's old. Plus, everybody knows who made an issue out of pure nothing." Rick said and faced Stanford afterwards. "Right, Sixford?"

"Oh, you're asking a _tramp_ to judge between us now!" The young lady said before Stanford could do anything to say he was not getting involved in their argument. Her simple sentence ticked Stanford off though, as well as the blue haired scientist.

"It's obvious that if there's a tramp in our ten-mile radius, it's _you_ Bitch!" Rick yelled, but kept his voice down, not to wake any neighbors up. Mrs. Hammett, meanwhile, was taken aback entirely, as her skin gone extremely pale and her silence suggested. This made Rick feel proud.

"Thought I don't know about you being the fucking hooker of your own boyfriend's bar, and later the…"

Stanford found the door leading back to the lab quickly and managed to go in there – he had nothing else to do with this argument anymore – but was stopped when he heard a door open.

"Daddy?" A little girl's voice called. Rick turned around to face the source of the voice, and so did Stanford. He saw a Blond, young girl, who looked pretty much the same as the woman who Rick was arguing with just seconds ago.

"Beth!" Rick said and ran to her daughter, hugging her. "Why'd you wake up so early, sweetie?" Stanford felt pretty uncomfortable in the situation, so he actually opened the door to the lab and left Rick's workshop, hoping Rick would tell him when the issues were over.

* * *

After a few minutes, at six thirty as the six fingered scientist remembered, Rick opened the door to the lab and found Stanford in a corner, and to his surprise, he was holding a bottle of his drinks. He was staring at the bottle emptily, as if thinking about something deeply.

He _was_ deep in thought. Stanford was thinking of his own life back in gravity falls, What his brother was probably up to now, how he was doing, whether he was ashamed of himself, and most importantly, whether or not Stanford himself should be ashamed of how he had behaved to his brother. Rick's behavior had reminded him of his own argument with his twin, which made him feel especially sad.

Rick saw right through the six fingered man, and actually felt just as sad after what had happened in the workshop.

"Hey, Sixford, I feel ya." Rick said as Stanford turned to face him.

"No, no you don't." Stanford said. "I practically made my brother live on his own, with just a car and a bag of clothes for ten years." He added as he faced the bottle again.

"You told me earlier." Rick simply reminded him, trying to hold back his own anger at the woman who had just come to take her laundry machine out. "Listen, remember that bitch, Hammett?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. Why'd you remind me of that?" Stanford said.

"She's actually, umm…" He stopped.

"Your ex-wife?" Stanford guessed, almost forgetting the reason she was sad.

"Close…" Rick said and held his index finger and thumb few millimeters apart. "…Her sister, my ex-sister-in-law. Beth's aunt – You saw Beth, right?" He explained and Stanford nodded to the question. "She didn't come just to get her laundry machine, but also take Beth with her. Fortunately, I got her convinced to let her stay until tomorrow.

"But with all that happened, I doubt her mom will let her come to me in the next three months, which is seriously hell for me." Rick said, obviously feeling down, when he heard a knock on the door. "Yes, sweetie?" He said as Stanford stood up and put the bottle away.

"Can I come in, daddy?" The little girl said.

"Of course, Beth, come in." Rick said kindly as Beth opened the door. "But don't touch anything." He reminded her.

Beth came in to the lab. She looked like she was ashamed of what had happened there, which Stanford didn't know much about.

"Beth, this is my friend, Ford." Rick began to introduce him as Stanford smiled at the young girl. "And Ford, she's my daughter, Beth." Rick faced the six fingered man. Beth, meanwhile, looked pretty confused.

"He looks so much like Uncle Ruben, daddy." Beth said bluntly. Stanford grew confused and sort of offended by the statement, thinking why both Rick and his daughter mistook him for someone he didn't even know.

"Don't be rude to Uncle Ford, Beth!" Rick said, and cleared his throat afterwards. "That's because he hasn't shaved, he looks nothing like Ruben otherwise." He explained and looked at Stanford. The beardy man seemed pretty uncomfortable with being called an uncle, but at the same time, it seemed pretty cute to him.

"Dad, is it bad that I came to the workshop when you and auntie were talking?" Beth asked with guilt in her voice. "You seemed mad, daddy."

"No!" Rick said, as his features softened, "I was mad at your aunt, not you, Beth. Now come on, let's go have breakfast, okay?" He added. "And, Ford, you come with us too."

"If it's okay with you, I'll take my plate to the workshop. I'll try to find out a way to fix the headphones as well." Stanford said.

"Okay, then. Now come upstairs." Rick said.

"I just said…"

"You're gonna get the plate up there, anyway. C'mon." Rick said and led the way.

* * *

"Hello, sir." Rick greeted the man who stopped by his workshop. The man responded with a polite smile. "I'm Dickens, if you remember me. I gave you my headphones to fix." He explained.

"Oh, the headphones? Yeah, just gimme a minute." Rick said and left to the back of the workshop, where a six-fingered man was testing the said headphones. Well, he was _supposed_ to be testing them, now he was freaked by what he was hearing from the headphones.

"Sixford, you fixed those headphones or not?" Rick asked Stanford as he came through.

"What… what fresh _hell_ is this?" Stanford said in a scared and confused look. "This thing is setting my brain on fire!" Stanford exclaimed as he got the headphones off his head.

"Oh, man. What record did you pick?" Rick asked, pretty puzzled.

"The first one I found. I didn't care what it was." Stanford answered. "Seems like I should have cared more."

Rick ejected the record. "Oooooooh! Seems like you chose one of the _best_ records of mine!" He said enthusiastically and put the record back in place, making Stanford quite surprised "How can you _like_ this thing?" He asked as the record began playing from where it had been left off and the headphones kept yelling, almost as loud as the regular gramophone.

"Invaders! Fighting…

"Invaders! Marauding…"

It didn't take long for Rick to start singing along.

"Axes grind and maces clash as wounded fighters fall to the ground…"

Then he ejected the record and took a closer look. What he saw was a misshapen, giant creature with an evil grin controlling a red man that looked like the devil with a pair of strings. At the top, he saw the words 'Iron Maiden' written in a weird font and red, capital letters.

"Iron Maiden? The torture device back in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries?" Stanford guessed.

"These guys actually named their band after that device. Oh, man, they're just amazing. How can you not like them?" Rick said.

"Well, they _do_ sound melodic, but the music was crushing my skull." He explained. "Can you give something like Pink Floyd or The Beatles, Maybe even Deep Purple? I need to actually know if it works well. I can't tell with this 'Iron Maiden' music." He finger-quoted.

"Sir, Are my headphones ready?" They heard a voice calling from the front of the workshop.

"Juuust need to check." Rick said and looked at where his records were. He Picked up one of them from the case. "There we go. _Pink Floyd, The wall_ , give it a check." And he handed the record to Stanford. He checked the second disk and listened for a few seconds. "There we go, works perfectly." He said and took the headphones off and walked to the front of the workshop. "There you go, sir. Worked with little to noise." He said with a smile. The man seemed glad.

"Thanks, sir." He said and took out his wallet.

"I'll handle this part." Rick said and shoved Stanford aside as he looked at the man. "Fifty nine bucks, because we changed the left ear's speaker." Rick explained. This got Stanford thinking. He hadn't changed the speaker. He'd made it work again by stabilizing the wirings connecting to the speaker. Why was Rick saying he had changed the speaker?

"Okay, then. Here you go." The man paid and left the workshop, saying he would be late to his work.

"Nice, Ford. You seem to get along with costumers pretty well, too." Rick said, smiling. "Now come on, we have a few more things to fix."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day fixing more items previously given to Rick, dealing with costumers, fixing more devices, and some talks about different topics – anything excluding the supernatural.

Beth also visited a few times and made friends with Stanford. She was actually an enthusiastic kid, set aside the morning. She said she always tried to catch squirrels in their yard with a leaf blower, and always let them go afterwards, but seemed pretty confused about a few of them "Not moving anymore" after she caught them with the leaf blower – Rick signed Stanford not to explain why.

She was also the first person in Stanford's life not to be grossed or freaked out by Stanford's extra finger.

"Ooooh! You can count to six with one hand! That's awesome!" Beth had said earlier, when she saw her extra finger.

Rick told his daughter to go and play in the yard the last time she visited, after she had said she was bored, so they knew that Beth was busy, and they were sure she was okay.

Until Rick closed up his shop at six O' clock.

"Alright, Sixford. We got through one day." Rick announced as he closed the glassless window.

"Oh, you close up shop at six?" Stanford asked. "I thought more people come to your workshop at night."

"We're in the suburb area, so no, nobody shows up here at night. That's why I close up shop early and go to my lab." Rick explained.

"Okay." Stanford said and followed after the blue-haired scientist, into the lab.

"By the way, Rick." Stanford said as he remembered something. Rick stopped and listened. "Remember when you said you could help me get back and I said no?" Rick nodded. "What, changed your mind?" He guessed.

"Exactly. My brother needs me there." He said. "Do you know a way to…"

"It's simple. I just need my portal gun…" Rick said and pulled out his portal gun from his lab coat. "…And the identity of your reality." He added.

"So, are you getting me back there right now?" Stanford said, half happy, half worried. How would his brother welcome him? Would he even be welcomed at all? His head started filling with questions, until one important thing clicked into space.

 _What the hell is a reality's identity?_

"Yeah, I _can_ take you back to your home right now. I just need you to tell me what reality you come from." He said as he opened the door to his lab and stepped inside. Stanford felt stupid for not knowing what Rick considered simple and spoke about it as if every fool should know it.

"Uh, well… I don't remember… uh… let me think…" Stanford said awkwardly.

"You _should_ know it, Sixford. You built a portal, after all." Rick said, only to make Stanford feel more stupid. How could he tell Rick that his portal was literally built by a Dorito?

"Yeah, but I built it over a year ago, so…"

"Okay, you don't remember it, it's okay, it just might take longer before you can actually go back." The blue-haired man said. "In fact, that's exactly what my current paranormal project is about, so, not only I need your help, _you_ need to help me as well." He added. "That calls for an adventure."

"You've been working on realities?" Stanford said. "Could you go on? I want to know what it exactly is supposed to do." Stanford asked curiously.

"Alright, then." Rick said and sat down on a seat. Stanford sharpened his ears. "Remember when I told you how I built my portal gun?" He asked.

"Yes." Stanford said, only to face Rick's empty stare. "You found a chemical on another dimension and used it to build a portable portal gun." He explained.

"Exactly, and I'm gonna do the same with this new project." Rick said as the six fingered man nodded. Rick went on. "This project I'm working on will be able to tell what dimension every creature's home is by their DNA. What I need is a chemical element which can basically decode the DNA molecules and get any kind of information from it. So, their home dimension will be only _one_ of the uses of what I'll make." He explained, dry of any sense of pride. Stanford, meanwhile, was in awe.

"This is amazing! An invention with many unimaginable purposes!" The six fingered man said, amazed by what he said, and even more amazed how he was not proud of his future invention at all.

"I wouldn't call it an invention at all." Rick said. "There are lots of devices that have been built this way – by getting chemicals from other dimensions and putting them in a simple circuit. So, my project is just another one of those things, and since anything you can think of is possible, then it's not much worthy. That's why I'd rather call it a simple device _built,_ not _invented._ " He said and stood up from his seat and opened a bottle of whiskey out of nowhere – Stanford thought it was from his lab coat.

"Anyways, Sixford," He said after the bottle was finished. "the dimension I'm going to is named 'H181D9', and I need you to take me there with my portal gun – you should learn how to use those, anyway." Rick said and handed the scientist his portal gun.

After a few minutes of teaching how to use the portal gun and how to type the name of the dimension inside it, Stanford was ready. Rick went to where a few drawers and lockers were, as if looking for something. Since Stanford didn't know what it was Rick was looking for, he began to type 'H181D9' in the portal gun. It was a hard task that took long, so he began it before he was told to.

"Alright, Ford. I'm done. Wanna hit the rooa – Burp - ad?" Rick said, smiling.

" _A road of weirdness to the great unknown."_ Stanford said, looking at what would have been the horizon if they were out in the open.

"Hate to break it to ya, Sixford, but my lab doesn't look like an epic place at all to me." Rick said dryly. "Seriously though, just hit that damn button already." Rick demanded, and Stanford did so after a moment of hesitation.

A green, liquid-like hole opened in the air, as if floating in the room, but stably in its place. Then, a strong wind blew, which he could feel in his messy, unwashed hair. "Magnificent!" The six fingered man commented and looked at Rick, demanding a response.

"Nice, Ford. Now we gotta go before it closes." Rick said and stepped inside the tear immediately, leaving a hesitant Stanford behind. He was not sure if he could step inside at all, for he was reminded of the unpleasant experience of his own portal. He didn't want to go through the same thing again.

Then he felt the gateway start to dissolve out of existence. _No, he had to step inside quickly_. He took the first step and stopped, but seeing the gateway fading made him determined to go in, so he ran to the portal, passed through it, and _hit something._

All he remembered was a glimpse of purple light, a strong hit to the head and the rest was ultimate nothingness. He fell on the ground, the ground of a completely unknown world to him, hit into unconsciousness before seeing any of the universe his body was lying in.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Okay, I hope you have enjoyed this new chapter of mine! It's by far the longest chapter I've ever written, even considering my other story's chapters, Disposable Heroes (which is a Gravity Falls fanfic.) Make sure to check that story out as well, because I know you're all fallers ;)**

 **Anyway, I'm pretty much proud of what this chapter turned out like, but I also want to hear your opinions, whether good or bad, so feel free to leave a review, because it means a lot to me!**

 **-H80NP**


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